My family and I have just returned from a trip to Georgia, which led us to discover large cities, well‑known international destinations, and small towns not yet touched by mass tourism. We met wonderful people who will stay in our hearts forever, but also some who were decidedly more irritable and unpleasant. We experienced fun moments and others that were much less so. This is the unfiltered story of what happened, and I hope you enjoy it.

Previous chapters

Chapter 1 - Alcoholic Transfer

Chapter 2 – Heading toward the ‘most precious water in the world

In a country where the railway network is only partially developed and efficient, tourists who don’t intend to venture out on the road themselves by renting a car don’t have many alternatives other than purchasing a trip on a Marshrutka, a Soviet‑era term referring to shared minivans, usually quite inexpensive.

Considering the costs, the fact that my driving skills aren’t exactly comparable to Lewis Hamilton’s, the quality of the roads, and the poor discipline of local drivers (trust me, compared to them Naples looks like Zurich), we definitely preferred this option over renting a car from good old Andro.

So, early in the morning, there we were booking a Bolt to cover the roughly 4 km separating us from the Kutaisi bus station. Taxi fares in Georgia, compared to ours, can easily be considered negligible: five people driven practically from the city center to the outskirts for 10–12 GEL (1 € ≈ 3 GEL). Back home, I suppose they would have asked more or less ten times that amount.

On top of that, the taxi driver — quiet but kind — dropped us off right in front of the shuttle to Borjomi, whose drivers seemed to be waiting only for us before hitting the road. Buses and minivans have fixed schedules, but once the vehicle is full, unless there are particular needs, they leave without hesitation.

One of the things I think we’ll carry with us the most is the faces of the people — invariably lighting up with joy the moment they find out we’re Italian…

Ah, Italy… Belissimo… Roberto Baggio, Adriano Celentano, Toto Cutugno, Italiano Vero…

And off they go laughing. You just have to accept it: despite Italy having produced Julius Caesar, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, Marco Polo, Leonardo da Vinci, Rita Levi‑Montalcini and many others, abroad we’re still mostly labeled through football and 1980s music. Apparently, we did some remarkable things in those years — things we unfortunately haven’t been able to repeat.

Along the road to Borjomi, we got in touch with the owner of the house where we would be staying for the next two nights. We explained our expected arrival time, asked for instructions for the check‑in, and his only reply was:

Don’t worry, just come in whenever you want, the door is open…

Alright — we weren’t sure whether that was a good thing (apparently no one fears petty crime) or a bad one, but we could only follow his instructions. And indeed, waiting for us was the house key, stuck right in the door. Definitely unusual, but it seems that’s how things work here. After all, we’re talking about a small hillside town of fewer than 10,000 inhabitants, where everyone apparently knows each other and trusts their neighbors.

The house was clean and tidy, but it had the usual issue found in tourist accommodations meant for more than four people: not enough supplies for everyone. There were five of us, yet we found only four chairs and four shower towels…

Excuse me, but are we supposed to take turns sitting at the table?

Being a tourist doesn’t automatically make you a millionaire, and honestly we can’t afford to eat out three times a day for the entire duration of the trip — even in a relatively inexpensive country like Georgia.

Unfortunately — and I say this as an Airbnb host who initially made the same mistake — in order to earn more, people often ‘sell’ their house as suitable for a higher number of guests without actually worrying about everyone’s comfort. But the fifth, sixth, or tenth guest, if expected, has the same right as the first to feel comfortable. After pointing this out to the owner, the missing chair and towel appeared within minutes.

Alright, but we’re in Borjomi for one reason: its miraculous water! It rises from the namesake gorge without any need for pumping, carrying with it an incredible mineral content that can reach more than twenty times that of common European waters. It has been famous since the time of the Romanovs, who decided to build a railway specifically to connect Borjomi with Moscow and allow everyone to reach the spa town.

Those who drink Borjomi water — rich in sodium bicarbonate, magnesium, calcium, and other minerals — enjoy enormous benefits not only for the stomach, but also for the liver and metabolism in general. It’s also considered an excellent remedy for post‑hangover discomfort.

Back home, it’s sold at prices ranging from sixty to one hundred euros per case, but in Georgia you can easily buy it for about 3 GEL per one‑and‑a‑half‑liter bottle, or drink it directly from the spring that flows in the Borjomi Central Natural Park.

Of course, we tried it in both versions and…

A little patience — I’ll tell you about it next time.